I'm Fine
by Nika Dixon
Summary: A separate look into the minds of Sam, Oliver and Andy as they deal with the shooting.  Warning: Season 2 premier spoilers .


**Author's Note: To my SGA folks who have not seen the show Rookie Blue yet, I urge you to check it out. By the time you get through season 1, hopefully you'll be as madly in love with Sam and Andy as I am. To those already addicted to this awesome show, I blame Cindy Ryan's latest drabbles for this plot bunny. :) This is my first attempt writing for Rookie Blue. Any typos or grammar mistakes are my own fault. :) Hope you enjoy!**

**Nika  
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~ **SAM** ~

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_"You're going to be fine."_

Such a common phrase. A simple set of words. Word's he spewed a thousand times to a thousand nameless faces in a thousand situations. But this time...this time the words weren't common, the person wasn't nameless, and this wasn't just any situation. This was Andy. His Andy. And his Andy had just been shot.

When he'd heard the first shot, Sam had defaulted to years of training and experience, deciphering directionality of sound through the rush of the panicked concert goers. In the brief second it took the next shot to echo over the screams and screeches of the fleeing crowd, he'd confirmed the gunfire was coming from the front of the line. He'd been half-wedged behind a girl with a pony tail and a pair of jocks in hoodies when the third shot hit.

Too close to ever forget the way she dropped to the ground.

Too far to catch her.

His heart stopped.

His body didn't.

Sam ran.

With his heartbeat now slamming a frantic pace against his ribcage, he broke into the open to where the two women were on the ground. One in a pool of blood, one covered in blood.

He couldn't lose her.

Now now.

Not like this.

Sam leapt past the girl in the red coat. Oliver had her. Oliver would make sure she was taken care of. Sam needed to get to Andy.

His knees cracked against the asphalt when he dropped, pushing her back against the ground. The sound of her fractured breathing sliced through the deafening sound of the crowd, straight to his soul. Sam forced himself to look away from the raw fear and naked pain in her eyes. He dug at the seams on her vest. Mangled silver glinted up at him, taunting him, wedged in the dark material. Sliding his hands beneath the protective barrier he prayed he would find nothing but dry cloth. Feel nothing but warm skin.

There was no blood.

The vest had done its job.

Relief knifed through him, shoving his ragged emotions back behind his shield. He'd deal with them later. Welcoming the unemotional state of orders and commands, Sam put everyone to task, locking down the area and securing the perimeter. Training and experience were once again in control.

He was in control.

She was going to be okay.

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**~ OLIVER ~**

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McNally was right.

The talk they'd missed wasn't that long ago.

Not really.

Not when he considered that only a few short months ago she'd stumbled onto his shift roster and completely messed up his perfect standard of hands-off when it came to befriending the new kids. Somehow the fresh faced rookie with her nonstop questions had managed entrench herself right into his daily routine. So much so it felt as though he'd known her for years.

Oliver glanced over at the woman in the seat beside him. She looked so young. So lost. Such a change from the cocky, self assured rookie with the sparkling intelligence who'd taunted Swarek about hair-gel before sauntering off with a command of step Oliver recognized as the foundation for one hell of a police officer.

Andy McNally had what it took.

Today she'd almost lost it all.

If it had been just a few inches higher...

Oliver shook the thought away and glanced over at Andy again. If it were one of the guys sitting in the passenger seat-Epstein or Diaz-he wouldn't second guess harping on them them for trying to work out a pickup line with a bullet story. Torment them for falling down on the job. Even offer to bronze the bullet for them to show their grand kids. Hell, even Peck would take the heat. But McNally...McNally was too close to home for him to drop her with a callous joke. Not today, anyway. Maybe not for a while.

She looked one wrong answer shy of breaking down completely.

He knew she was working hard to hold it it. Compartmentalizing. He'd been there himself a time or two. But Andy wasn't seasoned. She didn't have years behind the badge to help her sort through the events of the day.

She had months.

A few short months.

No. It hadn't been that long ago he'd missed that first talk. Not long ago at all.

Swallowing down the urge to offer to take her to the hospital again, he started reciting his standard speech.

"I'm Oliver... Oliver Shaw. I'll be your training officer until further notice. You don't touch anything in the car until I tell you to. You don't write anything down in your memo book until I tell you to. You don't talk to other people, you look at me first. You do as I say, not as I do. Now you probably think right now I'm being a bit of a hard-ass but if it gets stressed out there, and it will be because I..."

When he caught her watching him, traces of dried blood still clinging to her cheek and hair, Oliver lost his place, stumbling over the words that until now had always come so easily. He swallowed and forced himself to look away. His heart wanted to improvise-to tell her she'd scared the hell out of him today-but he kept to the speech, owing her at least that much.

He tried to keep his voice neutral but the image of Andy lying on the pavement, struggling to breathe stuck in his mind. He paused. Inhaled. Continued.

"My job is to keep you safe. This crest on my shoulder, it represents you, McNally, and we're both going home today."

"That's a really good talk," she commented softly, her voice breaking.

Oliver nodded. It was a good talk.

Yet somehow saying it to Andy now made it more like a prayer.

And a thanks.

Because they _were _both going home today.

She was going to be okay.

.

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**~ ANDY ~**

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"I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine."

The two words had become her mantra. Her chant both silent and audible, to herself and everyone around her. Everyone asked. Everyone was concerned. But everyone also expected her to reply with the same damn answer.

_I'm fine._

Andy wondered what they would do if she'd told them she _wasn't _fine. She _wasn't _good. She _wasn't _okay. She was a complete mess inside and couldn't keep her thoughts in line long enough to make any kind of coherent, emotionless decision. Would they stumble over their words? Would they give her some meaningless platitude? Would they pat her on the head like a good little girl and tell her to 'get some rest'?

Probably.

So she hadn't told anyone she was barely keeping it together. She hadn't let them know she was falling apart inside. And she hadn't let on that she was feeling so disconnected she didn't know which way was up.

Instead she soldiered on. Just like a good rookie was supposed to do.

They caught the bad guy. Made the arrest. And with Dev's help had turned a useless death into a second chance for a man needing a new heart.

Then everyone had gone on with their regular lives.

She tried to make the routine work. Had even gone out for a couple of drinks after work. It satisfied her scattered state for a little while. But the calm of routine failed with a horrible crash when they'd gotten back home and Luke had been too worried about her fragile state touch her with more than just a gentle caress as he fell asleep beside her.

Andy didn't want to be fragile. She didn't want to be some breakable doll. She wanted to feel alive and breathing.

She wanted to _feel_.

As the midnight hour rolled into the early morning, she stared at the ceiling, replaying everything. Rewinding. Fast forwarding. Letting the pieces switch and match, disconnect and reconnect in any order possible. Nothing would change. Nothing _could _change. But it didn't mean she would never stop trying to decide if she should have done something differently.

She was halfway to the closet before she remembered this wasn't a normal day. That she wasn't starting her regular routine.

She didn't care.

Silently gathering her running clothes, Andy tip-toed into the bathroom, Detective Rosati's words bounding around in her head. There was no way she was going to take a month off like Jo just because she'd caught a bullet in the vest. Despite what everyone thought. Despite how much they expected her to. Today was just another normal day.

It was a struggle to get into her clothes.

Every muscle in her body protested. Stiffness had set into her shoulders and back, and her side burned like a son-of-a-bitch. But she pushed past it. She had to sit on the toilet set to pull on her socks. Bending was definitely not an option.

Andy thought about pulling her hair into a pony tail but couldn't muster the dexterity of lifting her left arm over her head. She settled for an incredibly messy job with a hair clip. She wouldn't exactly be jogging anyway.

Toeing on her sneakers, she stepped out the front door, closing it quietly. Cold air draped itself around her, stinging her exposed skin. She should go back and grab a jacket. Should. But the crispy air reminded her she was still here. Still in one piece.

After a few blocks of walking her muscles began to warm, loosening their pinched grip of her body. Familiar landmarks guided her forward through the waking city. In an hour the cafe's would be open and filled with business people seeking their jolt of caffeine before starting their day. For now shops and restaurants were dark and quiet, an almost perfect moment of peace before the traffic jams and packed subway cars.

Walking proved to be an agonizingly slow pace compared to her usual run, but it was movement. And movement was good.

It took almost half an hour to reach the waterfront. A trip that should have taken her less than ten minutes. She followed the marked bicycle path until it opened up along the water's edge. A long grey railing topped the break wall that divided the gently surging lake from the hard asphalt of the marked path.

Andy walked towards the barrier and stopped. The skin on her arms rose into a flush of goosebumps. The wind shifted direction, tugging her hair out of it's useless clip. She tried to recapture it but gave up. She pressed her palms against the cold metal of the railing, wincing as her injured side made it's presence known.

She ignored it.

Over her left shoulder, the sun was inching its way higher, brightening the sky and bringing in the dawn. Out across the water, beyond the lightening shadow shape of Toronto Island, the lights of a laker glowed faintly. Andy leaned against the railing, staring until it disappeared over the horizon, letting the lapping sound of the waves against the rocks lull her mind.

Reality returned with a stabbing pain when she shivered. Hissing, she clamped her hand against her side, riding out the wave of nausea that accompanied it.

Warmth tingled up her right arm. She would have jumped if not for the sudden soothing balm of the low voice.

"McNally."

Andy turned, instantly losing herself in the comforting familiarity of a pair of dark brown eyes.

_Sam._

She was surprised to see him, yet somehow...somehow she wasn't surprised at all. Andy didn't know how Sam had known she was out here, and she decided she didn't care. She stared him down, willing him to talk first, but praying he wouldn't ask. Praying he wouldn't voice the same stupid question as everyone else. Hoping she wouldn't need to lie to him because of all the people in her life, Sam was one person she didn't think she'd ever be able to lie to.

He didn't say a word. He simply reached up with his index finger to tuck a chunk of hair in behind her ear. It stayed for a brief moment before the wind picked it free once again.

He snorted and cracked a grin.

It was such a simple gesture.

A normal gesture.

And it was all Sam.

It broke her.

"Ah, Andy..." he whispered, pulling her against him.

She threw her arms around his waist, wincing when her side shrieked again. She tensed, expecting him to push her away too, waiting for his muttered apology at causing her pain. But Sam didn't let go, didn't move away, and didn't apologize for holding her too tightly. If anything he moved to fit her more fully against him.

With her cheek resting against his shoulder, Andy closed her eyes, letting his strength and warmth sooth her wounded soul. All sense of time and place drifted away. His breath was warm against her cheek when he finally did voice the question.

Was she okay?

"No," she eventually answered, rocking her head.

He tensed at her honesty, but didn't move away.

Andy took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, calming her ragged emotions. "No," she repeated. "But...but I will be. Just..." She bit back the words, afraid to say them aloud.

"Just what?"

"Just don't let go," she whispered. "Not yet."

"I've got you covered, McNally," he answered softly. "You're going to be fine. Just fine."

And somehow Andy knew without a doubt she would be.

_Just fine._

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_END  
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